


The king is dead, long live the king

by JohnSpangler



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Defiance of Duskendale, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28237467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnSpangler/pseuds/JohnSpangler
Summary: Aerys II dies at Duskendale, and the history of Westeros is changed forever.
Relationships: Brandon Stark/Catelyn Tully Stark, Cersei Lannister/Rhaegar Targaryen, Robert Baratheon/Lyanna Stark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

The king is dead, long live the king

If he had not gone into Duskendale to rescue Aerys from Lord Darklyn's dungeons, the king might well have died there as Tywin Lannister sacked the town. Then Prince Rhaegar would have ascended the Iron Throne, mayhaps to heal the realm. Duskendale had been his finest hour, yet the memory tasted bitter on his tongue.—thoughts of Ser Barristan Selmy

Prologue

Taken from "Fire and Blood: A comprehensive history of House Targaryen", by Archmaester Yandel of the Citadel

Chapter 17: The Ever-Changing King

...Despite the later parts of his reign being marked by many events worthy of note, chiefs among them the deterioration of his old friendship with his Hand, Lord Tywin Lannister, and his declining mental health and growing paranoia (mostly due to Queen Rhaella's many miscarriages and stillbirths), King Aerys II will be forever remembered with one nickname: the Ever-Changing King.

...It is undeniable that, both before and after his crowning, he showed great charm and a will to work hard. However, he was also a man who grew bored easily. He changed his mind as often as he changed his smallclothes. One example of this is the number of mistresses he had over the years. While probably not as high as his infamous ancestor's, Aegon IV, it was indeed high, with each maiden warming the King's bed for a while only to be replaced as soon as a new one happened to strike his fancy.

Another example are all the grand projects King Aerys liked to boast about. The annexation of the Stepstones; the building of a new Wall in the far north; the invasion of Braavos (the latter was suggested after a dispute with the Iron Bank. The King lost interest in this, too, and later Lord Tywin was able to settle the dispute. And we should all be grateful for this, for making an enemy of the Iron Bank invites only death and despair). All of these schemes came to nothing, and King Aerys' reign went on, until that fateful day in the 277th year after the Conqueror's crowning…

...Nobody knows for certain what went wrong, that night. All that is known, is that Ser Barristan's rescue attempt failed, and both he and the King died. And, after waiting for the end of the ultimatum he had previously given, Lord Tywin stormed the city. Just like he had done years before with the Reynes and Tarbecks, he showed Duskendale no mercy. Every house was put to the torch. All the men, women, and even children, died by his host's blades. The nobles of the city died with their smallfolk. Lord Denys Darklyn, for his role as instigator of the whole affair, was tortured for hours on end together with his family. Later, his body was cut into seven pieces, each of them put on a pike placed right in front of the gates of King's Landing, so that everybody could witness the end that awaited any who dared defy the Iron Throne.

...This may seem cruel to some people. Truth is, Lord Tywin simply did what he had to. For all men, from the highest lord to the lowest gutter rat, shall eventually reap what they have sown...

XXXXXX

Taken from "Songs of the Sunset Lands", by Jaqen Wunel, Pentoshi scholar

The Doom that came to Duskendale

(AN: Lyrics shamelessly stolen and adapted from “The price of a mile”, by Sabaton)

Hear the sound of marching feet,  
Hear it echo through the night.  
Rams battering, hear their song!  
Break the walls that once stood strong.

The Doom has come to the city  
Where the King met his end.  
Roads and houses, to the sword!  
The bold knight is no more.

Now many a man will suffer,  
Now many a man will die.  
Beware, Lord Darklyn!  
The Doom has come to Duskendale!

And as the night falls, the lion lord calls,  
And the killing carries on and on.  
That is the price of it all.  
That is the price of defiance!

Thousands of lives lost that night,  
The whole city in despair.  
Knee deep in blood,  
Stuck in the flames, with no way out.

Thousands of dying people  
Keep on screaming through the night.  
Torches blaze and wreck the scene,  
Raze the fields that once were green.

It's a slaugtherhouse in the city  
Where the King met his end.  
Roads and houses since long gone,  
The dusk city is no more.

Now that many a man has suffered,  
Now that many a man has died,  
Curse you, Lord Darklyn!  
You brought the Doom to your city!

And as the night falls, the lion lord calls,  
And the killing carries on and on.  
That is the price of it all.  
That is the price of defiance!

Thousands of lives lost that night,  
The whole city in despair.  
Knee deep in blood,  
Stuck in the flames, with no way out.

XXXXXX

Taken from "Fire and Blood: A comprehensive history of House Targaryen", by Archmaester Yandel of the Citadel

Chapter 18: The Bard King

...King Rhaegar I was undoubtedly one of the most beloved Targaryen kings. With his soft voice and friendly demeanour, he was able to win friends all over the Seven Kingdoms. It wasn't just that, of course. King Rhaegar may have been a kind soul, but he was also more than able to show the inner strength and determination required to rule the realm. At times he has been compared to "an iron fist in a velvet glove", and this image is by no means far from the truth...

...His favorite pastime had always been playing the harp, ever since he was a prince. He played for his family, his friends and the guests of the Red Keep. He also often played for the smallfolk, which has earned him his famous nickname. The Bard King was an accomplished harp player, and perhaps in another world he could have made a career out of it...

...Of all his performances, the one that people tend to remember the most, is the one that took place the day of his wedding in the year 282 at Harrenhal, right before the tourney. When King Rhaegar, after five years on the Iron Throne, took Cersei of House Lannister as wife...

AN: The story is still in progress over on fanfiction.net, alternatehistory.com, and spacebattles.com. I'll post the rest here too if there's enough interest.


	2. Chapter 1: The world as we don't know it

Chapter 1: The world as we don't know it

Beron I

The Red Keep, 289 AC  
The royal sept inside Maegor's Holdfast

The eyes of the Warrior stared at him impassively. They had been doing that for the whole night. Why did he even bother glancing at them, anyway? It was just a statue. It wasn't as if it could move or talk. Now, that would be a sight to see. An interesting diversion that would, at the very least, alleviate some of his boredom.  
Beron sighed, lowering his head again and closing his eyes. When is it going to end? He already knew it was going to be a boring affair, having experienced it years before. Standing vigil for the whole night was by no means fun, like feasting with your friends or bedding a beautiful maid.  
His body was on the verge of falling asleep. He kept himself awake by sheer force of will. He couldn't ruin the cerimony. It would be a disappointment not just for himself (he always did go all the way down, once he set himself to do something), but for an entire host of people. His lord father, to name just one. His other kin, chief among them his elder brother. And most importantly, the man that had knighted him, and who he greatly respected. He had to endure the wait a little more. Then, it would be all over, and he would be able to do something which implied more activity on his part.  
Beron muttered another prayer to the Seven, just for safety. Then, out of old habit, he added one to the Drowned God. He chastised himself soon after. That wasn't his faith anymore. He highly doubted his old god would listen to him, now. Assuming that what the Drowned Men said about him was true, that is. And anyway, he had never paid too much attention to religion. He had partaken into the rituals and said the prayers, but without putting too much heart into it. And he wasn't the only one. His father, too, had always just done the bare minimum to save appearances.  
He felt a pang of nostalgia. Leaving his old life behind to live among the greenlanders hadn't been easy. From time to time he missed his home, and wondered if he would ever see it again. He half snickered. What a stupid thought. It wasn't as if he was going to die. And even if everything went smoothly, he would still get a chance to visit his home island. Even the black brothers of the Night's Watch left the Wall, once in a while.  
Beron focused his attention on his new sword, which he had placed at the feet of the statue. That weapon would be his constant companion for the foreseeable future. He would train with it, fight with it, and think of it as he would of his closest friend.   
For a brief moment, he wondered what his ancestors would think of him, if they saw him now. He decided he didn't care that much. Thinking about things past was pointless. He had to take care of the here and now.  
His stomach grumbled. He hoped he would get to eat something good, after the cerimony. Boar, maybe, or deer. He was starving, for gods' sake!  
After a while (he couldn't tell how much; he had lost track of time), he heard a noise from outside the room he was in, and someone fumbling with the lock. He held his breath. It must be over! What else could it be?  
In fact, as soon as the door opened, an old septon poked his head in. "You may leave this room, young man."  
Hiding his excitement, Beron nodded to the septon. He rose to his feet and put his sword back into its scabbard, then followed the other man out of the room.  
He was led to a large hall full of people. Most of the members of the Small Council were there, together with the whole Kingsguard and the High Septon. Beron couldn't help but notice once again how Ser Gerold Hightower still looked strong, despite his age. Next to him was Lord Tywin, the king's goodfather and Hand, and then Queen Cersei, as beautiful as ever, holding her newborn third child in her arms.  
Then he noticed his kin, and a smile appeared on his face. His father, elder brother and cousins were standing next to the Greyjoys. Lord Quellon, as big as Ser Gerold and just as old, if not older. His aunt and her children, his cousins. Rodrik, Maron, Asha, and little Theon, the latter holding his sister's hand. Beron was happy to see them.  
And in front of them all, King Rhaegar, handsome and elegant in his black and red robe, with the sigil of House Targaryen on his breast and a crown resembling a circle of flames on his head. The king was only thirty, but the beard he had started growing and the fatigue of ruling the realm made him look older.  
Beron knelt in front of his king and waited.  
"My lords and ladies," the king spoke. "we are gathered here today to witness an event that has no precedent in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. Something that marks a new era in the relationships between the people of the Iron Islands and the Iron Throne.   
"Eight years ago we took the first step, when the brave iron captains started accompanying our merchants in their journeys eastward, to protect them from pirates and thieves. And I'm proud to say that nobody has come to regret this..."  
Except for the pirates themselves, Beron thought with amusement. He listened as King Rhaegar kept on talking about the benefits brought by this and Lord Quellon's other reforms. Not everybody saw it like that, though. He knew that some of the iron lords resented the change, and that many on the mainland viewed the ironborn as untrustworthy. Not that he could blame them, of course, what with all the history of pillage and bloodshed the Iron Islands had accumulated over the centuries. However, hopefully all this would change in a few years.  
"...but enough talking. If I had wanted to annoy people with my voice, I would have brought my harp." said the king, and everybody chuckled. Except for Lord Tywin, who just stood there looking at everything and everyone with his perpetual scowl. Beron wondered if he ever smiled. As far as he could remember, he had never seen him doing it.  
"Ser Gerold, Your Holiness. If you would come forth..."  
The High Septon and the Lord Commander stepped forward, each carrying the item required for the cerimony. The holy man was the first to begin.  
"I bless you in the name of the Father..." he said, touching Beron's forehead with a finger dipped in holy oil and tracing the sign of the seven-pointed star. Beron's heart started beating faster.  
After the High Septon had completed the blessing, it was Ser Gerold's turn. The White Bull looked at Beron and spoke. "Do you swear, before the eyes of gods and men, to protect your king and his family, even at the cost of your own life?"  
"I swear." answered Beron.  
"Do you swear to forsake every claim to your former life, to your House's holdings and titles?"  
"I swear."  
"Do you swear to never take a wife, to never father children?"  
"I swear."  
"Do you swear to always stay true to your vows?"  
"I swear."  
Then Ser Gerold took the white cloak he had been holding and placed it on Beron's shoulders. "Then rise, Ser Beron of House Harlaw, and join your brothers in the Kingsguard."  
The Lord Commander's words were followed by a flood of applauses that echoed throughout the hall. Beron rose to his feet and smiled. His new life had just begun.

Minisa I

Winterfell, 293 AC  
The Great Hall

The hall was filled to bursting with people, their voices and laughters echoing in the air. Some men were singing songs more fitting for a low-life tavern, not for a nameday feast. Her father did nothing to stop them, though, and from his smile she could tell he was enjoying it. Most of the ladies in the hall looked at them disapprovingly, her mother especially. The only exception was Lady Maege Mormont, who not only laughed at the singing, but decided to join it by intoning a song that Minisa didn't immediately recognize. A song that made the other ladies' cheeks turn as red as her hair just at the first lyrics.  
"A bear there was, a bear, a bear." sang Lady Maege, and Lord Mormont clapped his hands at the rhythm of his aunt's voice. "All black and brown and covered in hair!"  
Minisa didn't mind those songs, far from it. She enjoyed the joyous atmosphere they had brought in the hall when Ser Wendel had started singing, though she didn't quite understand what they were about. Like this one. Why did everyone chuckle at "he licked the honey from her hair?" What was so hilarious about a bear helping a maiden in distress? She would have to ask her father or mother. Or maybe her uncles. They would surely know something like that.  
She was sitting at the great table with her family, her father at the head and her mother at his right. Minisa and her little sisters sat at their father's left. Her uncles were there, too, even Uncle Ned from Storm's End. She really liked Uncle Ned, and though she loved all her uncles the same, he was her favorite. She really didn't understand why some people seemed to dislike him. They said he was too "southronized". Of course, it was to be expected that he would lose some of his old habits, after years of living in the Stormlands. Where was the problem with that? Why did many northmen seem to think of the southrons and their ways with such disdain? Minisa hadn't met many southrons, but if they were all like her mother and Uncle Bryn, then they couldn't be that bad, could they? She had never been further south than Barrowton, but one day she hoped to travel beyond the Neck and see all the places she had only heard of. And maybe, just maybe, that way she would even be able to assist to a tourney. From what her mother and the septa had told her, tourneys were beautiful celebrations where knights showed their value to the rest of the realm. A pity there weren't any in the North. Perhaps she could ask her father if they could host one.  
Next to her kin were sitting the great lords of the North. Some, like Lord Cerwyn and his son, she already knew. Their castle was closer to Winterfell than all the others, and Minisa had met them often over the years. Others she had met so seldomly that they were basically strangers to her, like Lords Umber and Bolton. The former was a big and boisterous man, whose laughter boomed like a thunder, and to whom she had already taken a liking. The latter, on the other hand...well, he scared her. There was something about the Lord of the Dreadfort that send cold chills down her spine. However, she made sure to be polite and courteous with him too, like the septa had thought her. One day she would inherit Winterfell, unless a brother was born in the meantime, and it wouldn't hurt to start forming good relationships with her future bannermen.   
Only then she realized there was one person missing. Her brother, Torrhen, was nowhere to be seen. How strange. Torrhen had always been present at her previous namedays, so why wasn't he here now? Maybe he wasn't feeling well. Or maybe her mother had asked her father to not let him into the hall. Yes, that had to be the reason. Her mother had never looked kindly to her husband's bastard, and although she had always done her best to tolerate his presence at Winterfell, she would never let him attend an important event such as Minisa's tenth nameday. She felt sorry for Torrhen. It wasn't his fault that he was born a bastard. Some things just happened. She decided to save a piece of cake for later and bring it to Torrhen. He would surely appreciate it!  
Lady Mormont ended her song, and was rewarded by an enthusiastic applause from the men in the hall. Her mother breathed a sigh of relief and whispered a thanks to the Seven. Her father waited for the applauses to die down, then rose to his feet and cleared his throat. Silence fell on the hall as everybody's eyes turned toward him and waited.  
"My lords and ladies," he spoke, with what her mother called his "lord's voice". It was still his voice, of course, just different from when he spoke to his family and friends. "First, let me thank you all for being here for my daughter's tenth nameday..."  
From the corner of her eye, Minisa noticed her mother looking at Lady Dustin. The Lady of Barrowton held her mother's gaze for about a second, before turning it back to her father. She saw her mother narrowing her eyes and clenching her fists, and asked herself what had happened between the two of them. Their interactions, ever since Lady Dustin arrived at Winterfell with her husband and sons, had been quite cold. Maybe they simply didn't like each other much? How could that be? Her mother was such a sweet and gentle lady. Everybody liked her.  
"...now, though, I have an important announcement to make." her father said after a few moments. "In a few years, my daughter Minisa will be a woman grown. And after my death, she will be the next Lady of Winterfell. Of course, she will need a husband, to help her rule and give her children." He paused, and Minisa repeated those words into her mind. A husband. She knew that sooner or later she would have to marry, and that her parents would choose a husband for her. She just hoped it would be a good boy. Someone strong and gentle, who would protect her and comfort her when she needed it. Someone like her father, maybe, or Uncle Ned.  
Her father spoke again. "After much deliberation, and after consulting with my lady wife, I made my choice. Therefore, I formally announce my daughter's bethrothal to my nephew Edwyle Stark, son to my brother Benjen."  
Minisa blinked her eyes in surprise. She hadn't expected that! It was hardly an unusual occurrence, though. Her own grandfather had married a cousin of his, and many other lords throughout the realm had done that.  
She glanced at her cousin, who was sitting at his father's left. Judging from his face, he too was surprised by the announcement.  
"My brother has agreed to the bethrothal, which will be formally signed later this day. The wedding will take place once both Edwyle and Minisa will be six and ten. Their children will inherit Winterfell, unless the gods see fit to bless me and my lady wife with a son, while Sea Dragon Point will go to Benjen's second son, Artos."  
Minisa smiled. Edwyle was only a few months older than her, a nice boy who always managed to make her laugh. She was glad that her parents had chosen him as her future husband, and hoped that Edwyle felt the same about her.  
Her father took his cup, which had just been refilled with wine, and raised it. "And now, my lords and ladies, I would like to make a toast. To Minisa and Edwyle, may the gods bless them with a long and happy marriage."  
As everybody raised their own cups, Minisa looked at Edwyle and smiled. He smiled back at her, although a bit shyly. Later, after the feast had ended and the dancing started, she accepted Edwyle's invitation to dance. He was a little clumsy, though, and after stepping on her feet four times in a row, he solemnly swore to learn how to dance properly in time for their wedding.  
Minisa laughed, and hugged her cousin.

Errol I

Somewhere in Shipbreaker Bay, 296 AC

The wheather today was unusually calm, for the Stormlands. There were just a few clouds in the sky, and enough wind to propel the ship's sails. It was also quite warm. Not as much as the days in Dorne, but warm nonetheless.  
Errol walked back and forth, like he did every time he was nervous. He had been doing that for quite some time, and by now, he was sure his feet had left a trail on the ship's deck.  
I must stay calm, I must stay calm, he kept on telling himself. He took a couple of deep breaths. I must stay calm.  
Look at yourself, said his inner voice. Father would be ashamed of you. Letting your anxiety ruling yourself like this...  
Shut up! Father isn't here, he thought. He was accustomed to talking with himself. It was something that helped him think clearly and ease the tension. Of course, nobody else knew about that. At the very least, they would lock him into a room and never let him out. And even if he were, I couldn't care less about what he thinks. Errol had never let his father's opinions rule his actions, and he wasn't going to do it now.  
You should calm down, the voice said again. It's almost as if you were riding into battle against Balerion the Black Dread. Relax. Father raised you better than that.  
Errol stopped in his tracks. If you mention Father once again, I swear I will...  
You will, what? Hit me? You would just end up hurting yourself. Besides, you know I'm right. You aren't doing something particularly troublesome. You are just heading toward the place you were assigned.  
And you think it's nothing I should concern myself with? It's the castle where I will be spending the rest of my life! The House I will be serving!  
And what do you think their first impression of you will be, when they will see a nervous wreck entering their halls? They will dismiss you as a weakling! They will say "Look at this one! Are all Dornishmen so pathetic?" Is that what you want?  
Errol grunted. As much as he hated to admit it, his inner voice was right. He wanted to make a good impression on his future lord and lady, and he couldn't do that if his nerves got the better of him.  
What do you suggest?  
Nothing too complicated. Just clear your mind, and think of something relaxing.  
Errol did just that. He thought of the blood oranges he loved so much, of how the juice would run down his chin and neck every time he took a few bites. He thought of his early childhood, and the entire days spent running around the Water Gardens and playing with his cousins and sisters. He thought of the first time he had witnessed the vast libraries of Oldtown. All those thousands and thousands of books, with their knowledge and wisdom...  
Those thoughts managed to bring a measure of peace to his mind, and a little smile to his face.  
See? What did I tell you?  
He put his hands on the railing and sighed. You were right, he thought begrudgingly. He heard the voice chuckle, and after that it thankfully went silent. Errol just stared at the horizon, and waited.  
After a while, when he was starting to wonder if they would ever arrive, he heard a sailor cry. He looked up, and finally saw it.  
Storm's End loomed in the far distance, surrounded by its massive wall, a shield from the fury of the elements. Its only, colossal tower stood against the sky, an act of defiance toward the gods of sea and air and a testament to the willfulness of its masters.  
Gods, it's...it's huge. The Hightower of Oldtown was taller, but Storm's End was still an impressive sight. Both had been built in the ancient past by the First Men, and both had been the bane of many a besieging army over the centuries.  
There it is, the voice came back. Our new home.  
He wondered if he would ever come to think of the massive castle as home. Well, at the very least I will get used to it.  
There was no safe anchorage by the castle, so they had to dock somewhere else. Errol took that time to ready himself. He thought of the Baratheons, and wondered what kind of people they were. Of course, he would do his best to serve them. He thought of their current, ageing maester, and hoped they would get along.  
Stop thinking, just...  
Shut up! Errol thought, and patiently waited for the ship to dock.


	3. Interlude I

INTERLUDE I: THE REALM IN THE YEAR 297 AC

THE ROYAL FAMILY

Rhaegar Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm  
Cersei Lannister, his wife and queen  
Visenya Targaryen, their firstborn  
Aegon Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone  
Rhaenys Targaryen, their youngest

Viserys Targaryen, Prince of Summerhall (which will be given to him as soon the rebuilding process ends), bethrothed to Margaery Tyrell (1)  
Sandor Clegane, Prince Aegon's sworn shield  
Tygett Lannister, master at arms of the Red Keep

THE SMALL COUNCIL

Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King and Warden of the West  
Lord Jon Connington, Master of Laws  
Lord Rodrik Harlaw, Master of Coin  
Lord Paxter Redwyne, Master of Ships  
Lord Varys, Master of Whispers  
Ser Alliser Thorne, Commander of the City Watch  
Grand Maester Pycelle

THE KINGSGUARD

Ser Arthur Dayne, Lord Commander  
Ser Oswell Whent  
Ser Jonothor Darry  
Ser Beron Harlaw  
Ser Daven Lannister  
Ser Waymar Royce  
Ser Loras Tyrell (1)

THE NORTH

Brandon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North  
Catelyn Tully, his lady wife  
Minisa Stark, their firstborn and heir, bethrothed to her cousin Edwyle  
Berena, Alysanne, and Arya, their youngest

Ser Brynden Tully, master at arms of Winterfell  
Torrhen Snow, Lord Brandon's only male child  
Maester Luwin

Benjen Stark, Lord of Sea Dragon Point  
Ysilla Waynwood, his lady wife (2)  
Edwyle Stark, their firstborn, bethrothed to his cousin Minisa  
Artos Stark, heir to Sea Dragon Point  
Theon Stark, their youngest

THE RIVERLANDS

Hoster Tully, Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Riverlands  
Ser Edmure Tully, his son and heir, bethrothed to Argella Baratheon (3)

THE VALE

Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie and Warden of the East

Elbert Arryn, his nephew and heir  
Elia Martell, Elbert's lady wife  
Mors Arryn, their firstborn  
Loreza Arryn, their youngest

Lord Petyr Baelish

Ser Andar Royce, heir to Runestone  
Ashara Dayne, his lady wife  
Edric Royce, their firstborn  
Olyvar and Arthur Royce, their youngest

THE STORMLANDS

Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands  
Lyanna Stark, his lady wife  
Eddard Baratheon, their firstborn and heir  
Jon, Rickard, and Ormund, their youngest

Ser Eddard Stark, castellan of Storm's End  
Jeyne Swann, his lady wife  
Sansa Stark, their firstborn  
Jon Stark, their youngest

Ser Renly Baratheon  
Cassana Estermont, Lady Dowager of Storm's End  
Argella Baratheon, bethrothed to Edmure Tully  
Maester Cressen  
Errol Sand, Cressen's helper and future replacement

Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Stag's Den (4)  
Lysa Tully, his lady wife  
Cassana Baratheon, their firstborn  
Edric and Hoster Baratheon, their youngest

THE WESTERLANDS

Ser Jaime Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock  
Janna Tyrell, his lady wife  
Joffrey Lannister, their firstborn and heir  
Tommen and Olenna Lannister, their youngest

Tyrion Lannister, castellan of the Rock  
Ser Gerion Lannister, master at arms of the Rock  
Ser Kevan Lannister

THE REACH

Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South  
Alerie Hightower, his lady wife  
Willas Tyrell, their firstborn and heir, bethrothed to Asha Greyjoy

Ser Garlan Tyrell  
Olenna Redwyne, Lady Dowager of Highgarden

THE IRON ISLANDS

Rodrik Greyjoy, Lord Reaper of Pyke and Lord of the Iron Islands  
Cerenna Lannister, his lady wife  
Dagon Greyjoy, their firstborn and heir

Maron Greyjoy  
Asha Greyjoy, bethrothed to Willas Tyrell  
Theon Greyjoy  
Maester Gormon

DORNE

Doran Nymeros Martell, Lord of Sunspear and Prince of Dorne  
Arianne Nymeros Martell, his firstborn and heir  
Quentyn Nymeros Martell, his youngest (5)

Oberyn Nymeros Martell

THE WALL

Jeor Mormont, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch  
Mance Rayder, King-Beyond-the-Wall

(1) Mace and his wife had a couple of twins in 281 AC, which were named like their canon counterparts.

(2) One of Alys Arryn's daughters.

(3) Born in 282 AC, she is Robert's youngest and only sister.

(4) Canon Seaworth Keep.

(5) In this AU, Doran's wife died giving birth to Quentyn.


End file.
